Taking Connor (17 page)

Wendy doesn’t respond but gives me a curt nod. “I’d like to get the girls a few weekends from now before school starts. Would you be okay with that?”

She stands and takes her mug to the sink. “Yes. Give me some time to talk Jeff down. I know you mean well, Demi. It’s just . . . hard to hear.”

I nod in understanding, as I walk toward the front door, but stop at the kitchen entrance. “Let me know if you have any questions. I love Grayson. I just want to see him reach his full potential.”

“I’ll call you,” she answers, staring out her kitchen window.

As I pull out of their driveway, I know deep down I did the right thing. And if they’re mad at me, I can’t help that. But even knowing I did the right thing, I just can’t understand why I feel so damn bad.

Tuesday morning I bid farewell to my youngsters for the remainder of the summer. I will miss them, but it will be nice to have a few weeks off before the school year begins again. After I finish cleaning up my classroom, it is with great dismay and trepidation that I head over to my mother’s house for lunch. She called last night saying she was going to ‘stop by’ and visit soon. Not wanting her to just show up and possibly be rude to Connor, I offered to stop by and break bread with her after my last day at work for the summer.

We do the usual small talk as we get lunch ready. She fills me in on how her garden is doing and how her golf lessons are going. Then we get into the real stuff.

“You look thin, Demi,” she notes, as she stares at me over the rim of her glasses that are halfway down the bridge of her thin nose.

“I’m the same weight I’ve been for years,” I assure her before sipping my sweet tea.

She purses her lips and sits beside me. She’s managed a nice spread on the table of store bought fried chicken and potato salad. She was never the best cook, but she always made sure we had a decent meal growing up.

“I hear you’re involved with someone. I love having to find out my daughter is dating a man from Mr. Grenier of all people.”

“It was the first date. And I’m sorry I didn’t call you immediately to make you privy to my personal life. But yes, I guess we are dating. His name is Vick.” I know she already knows his name, but I tell her anyway.

“He’s a house painter,” she grumbles looking up at me, her fingers working at ripping meat from the chicken breast in her hand. “Not exactly the best career.”

I shake my head. “I don’t care.”

“I know,” she surmises before stuffing the meat in her mouth. After she chews and swallows, she adds, “And what about this Connor?”

“What about him?”

“When will he be moving out?”

I finish chewing the potato salad in my mouth before answering. “He has an open invitation to stay.”

Mom leans back in her chair and wipes her mouth. “He needs to move on and find his own place. He shouldn’t be mooching off of you.”

“He’s not,” I argue after wiping my mouth. “Blake had everything set up. You know that. I don’t have to worry about anything.”

Shaking her head, she lets out an aggravated sigh. “Blake was a good man, but for the life of me I’ll never understand why he put you in this position.”

“He didn’t put me in any position,” I clarify, sternly, looking her straight in the eyes. “Connor is a good man, and I’m happy to help him.”

“Demi,” she sighs as if exhausted with my naivety.

Standing, I take my paper plate to the trash and toss it. “I know you’re worried about me, but please stop this,” I beg. “I’m a grown woman. I’m not an idiot. Connor may have made . . . mistakes in the past, but people can change, mother. He
is
a good man, and I’m telling you right now, if you meet him and show him anything but the utmost respect, I will be very angry.”

Pursing her lips in annoyance, she starts working on her chicken again, not looking at me. “Between you and Lexi, I don’t know who is worse.”

I smile a little. It’s time to give Lexi a taste of her own medicine. “Well, Lexi is dating this really nice guy named Bob.”

My mother’s gaze flies to mine. “She is?”

“Says he’s the man of her dreams. Next time you see her, ask her to show you a picture. I think you’ll love him.”

I stay a bit longer, and we both dance around the subjects my mother really wants to discuss and stick to the more mundane ones; her next hair appointment, bingo night, etc. And when I leave, as we hug, she says, “I’ll stop by soon.”

Guess there’s no avoiding it, eventually my mother will meet Connor. God, help me. And Connor.

When I get home, the garage is closed, and I see no sign of Connor. For some reason, I feel restless. Being around my mother always puts me in a mental tizzy. Add to that I still haven’t heard from Wendy, and I’m worried that I may have damaged our friendship irrevocably. Connor cut the grass a few days ago, but it looks like it’s starting to get a little shaggy, so I decide to change into some old cutoff jeans shorts, a tank top, and pull my hair in a messy knot on my head, and gear up for a little exercise.

Colorado experiences hot days, but, fortunately, there’s no humidity. But even without humidity, sweat blankets my skin as I pull out the old push mower and wheel it to my starting point. After a few pulls, the machine roars to life and I begin walking straight lines. Connor takes a lot more pride in this task, mowing at angles and making the lawn look like a golf course. Me, if I can get it cut without completely screwing it up, I’m happy. When I finish the front lawn, I move to the back and continue my boring straight lines. About halfway through, the mower starts sputtering and shuts off, having run out of gas.

“Son of a biscuit,” I groan. Hearing the sound of someone chuckle, I whip around and find Connor is leaned over the bottom railing of the stairs to his apartment, watching me. He has a lazy smile on his face, and I try not to stare, but he looks so damn delectable. The easy smile against the hard body and tattoos, there is something positively divine about it. Suddenly it feels a lot hotter out here.

“Didn’t hear you pull in,” I note as I walk toward him.

“I know. I would’ve cut it, ya know?”

“Yeah, but I kind of wanted something to keep me busy. A little exercise never hurt.”

“Well, let me put fuel in it at least.” He walks in the garage and comes back out with the gas can. After he fills the lawn mower, he stands and smiles at me. “There you go.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“So, I know we said dinner tonight. I was thinking, wanna head into town for a bite?”

I had planned on making meatloaf, but the day is hot and heading out for a cold beer sounds amazing. “Um, yes, but it’s my treat,” I remind him. “I owe you for the childcare this past weekend.”

“You don’t owe me, but fine,” he folds. “Any chance you’d ride on the bike with me?”

My brows rise. “I’ve never been on one.”

This time, his brows rise and another beautiful grin spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Really,” I confirm.

“Well, I understand if you don’t want to. We can drive.”

I look over at his bike in the driveway and feeling shame deep inside, I realize I want to ride the bike. But the only reason I want to, maybe, is because I want to feel what it’s like to sit that close to him and wrap my arms around his body. Damn, I’m a head case. “No, I’d like to ride the bike,” I finally say.

“Okay, then.” He nods. “Leave around 6:00?

“It’s a date,” I slip out, then shake my head. What did I just say? “I mean . . . not a date. It’s a . . . dinner or whatever.” Shut up, Demi. Stop the madness.

Connor chuckles and walks past me. “See you at 6:00.”

We meet in the driveway at 6:00 pm on the dot. I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Connor is wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.

“Well aren’t we adorable, matching and shit,” he jokes as he puts on his helmet.

I laugh. “Should I change clothes?”

“Hell no. You look hot.” Rounding the bike he approaches me with another helmet and I pray my arms, neck and cheeks haven’t taken on the shade of a beet after his compliment. He slips the helmet on my head and begins tightening it around my chin. “You’re adorable when you blush, you know?” he murmurs.
There went that.

“It’s hot out here,” I reply lamely.

“It’s not that hot,” he replies with a grin.

“You know Colorado has no helmet laws,” I point out, hoping to change the subject.

“And anyone who rides without one is a fucking idiot,” he mumbles.

“True,” I agree.

After he finishes with the strap, he taps my nose with his index finger. He turns and climbs on his bike, hitting the kickstand. The muscles in his arms flex as he mans the bike and I decide I
really
like motorcycles. After a moment, the Harley roars to life, and he steadies it to one side, looking at me. “Use this little step and climb on.”

With a deep breath, I follow his instructions and climb on, scooting myself forward so that my body is flush with his. His hands reach around, grabbing mine and pulling them around his firm mid-section. “Hold on tightly to me, okay?”

“Okay,” I shout over the engine. He walks the bike back, turning it around and then slowly takes it down the driveway letting the weight create a momentum that makes us roll.

At the bottom, he turns his head and smiles. “I think you’re going to love this.” Then, he opens the throttle on the bike, and we take off. I didn’t realize my strength until this moment. I don’t think I’ve ever held anyone or anything so tightly in my life. I’m pretty sure I’m about to crack one of his ribs. The wind and the sound of the engine are loud, but they feel good. What I’m struggling with is the feeling of no control. I have no way to stop this bike myself. At any moment, we could veer off the road and go flying into the trees. When we come upon the first stop sign, Connor pats my hand, before resting his upon it and squeezing gently.

“I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” His words hit me. I believe him. And just like that, my hold weakens a little, and I inhale deeply through my nose. Well, that was a mistake. He smells like hot, dirty, sex. Why, oh why does he have to be so . . . everything? I mean, couldn’t he have been like some thugged out misfit with missing teeth? No, of course not. He just had to be the incredibly hot, kind, good and bad combo with tattoos.

By the time we make it to the restaurant, I’ve calmed down a bit. When I climb off the bike, I can’t help first rubbing my cheeks, then my ass. They’re both numb.

Connor laughs as he pulls off his helmet. “You’re just not use to it yet. We’ll have to ride more often.”

He helps me undo the strap of my helmet, and I run my fingers through my tangled hair. Note to self: Tie hair back next time on the back of a bike. We walk into the Sandbox, a cool little place that serves the best wings and has some form of live music every night. They also have six pool tables in the back. I’ve only been here twice, with Lexi, but I love the atmosphere. I wonder if she’ll meander in tonight.

“You want to grab a table and eat or would you rather play some pool first and have a drink?”

I am a little hungry, but a game of pool sounds fun. “You rack ’em,” I tell him. “You’re about to get your ass kicked.”